


The Secret Keeper

by Vyranai



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: An evening in the life of Dirthamen, Dirthamen - Freeform, Dirthamen is sexy, F/M, Gift Fic, Oh hey three-eyed ravens, Oneshot in Arlathan, but can be read easily, just a lil bit sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9727028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyranai/pseuds/Vyranai
Summary: An evening in the life of an Elvhen God of Secrets.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fnorpan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fnorpan/gifts).



> Anuira belongs to my lovely friend Fnorpan! (SURPRISE, LOVEY!) She inspired this. Dirthamen miiiiiiiiiiight be growing on me. Falon'Din may be up next.

Anuira watched from the comfort of her velveteen lounge as Dirthamen whispered to his raven's, sprawled upon his throne. It was a very lovely throne, if carven stone and feathers was to your taste. When she had asked the God if it was comfortable, he had merely replied that a throne should be rough to remind the man sitting upon it the perils of having such a lofty position.

 

To possess a God's favour was akin to being a God yourself, she had decided. Of course, this favour would not last forever, so one would do well to enjoy it while it lasted. Anuira had feasted upon the finest delicacies that Arlathan had to offer, wore the finest gowns of sheer fabric and temporarily resided within a God's living quarters. And yesterday, tasted his body.

 

Dirthamen would tire of her eventually, Anuira was no fool. But for now, she had the God by the arm and somewhere just a fraction south.

 

The raven's unnerved Anuira. No normal raven would possess three glowing red eyes instead of two black and beady ones. “My Lord, why does that raven have another eye? Is it a defect?”

 

Slowly, the God rose to his feet and turned to face his guest, hand stroking the inky-black feathers of the bird perched upon his wrist. “No,” he told her in a deep voice. “My ravens are of mine own design. The eye is a tool; to lie to one is to bring my fury down upon the fabricator. There is no escaping the truth when it is torn from you.”

 

“That is an excellent and clever idea, My Lord.” And chilling. What these ravens could do, Anuira wasn't sure that she wanted to know.

 

A lazy, languid smile spread across his handsome face, but it didn't quite touch the depths of his dark eyes. At one point, Anuira was sure that they were a dark, dusky blue, but the next she swore that they were a pale amber. Some stories depicted him with green eyes, as deep as a forest, but the others claimed them crimson like a person's lifeblood. “My lovely, exquisite Anuira... you ask many questions. One would almost suspect that you were trying to pry secrets from me.”

 

“Oh?” Anuira leaned forward a fraction, eyes glinting in the candlelight. The low lighting made his dark and decadent skin seem almost black. “As if I was that great and powerful! To be able to charm dark whispers out of the Keeper of Secrets.”

 

The raven took flight with a loud and irritable caw, soaring out of the window and into the night; it slammed shut behind it, causing the pane to rattle. Dirthamen chuckled, lowering his arm at last. “One would have to have an exceptional silver tongue to achieve such a feat. I'm afraid that, as lovely and as charming as you are, you could not quite manage that.” A smile, challenging and fierce, spread across his face. “Though I would not dissuade you from trying, o'lovely creature sat before me. Bring me a game worthy of a God.”

 

A heavy silence fell, punctuated only by the ruffle of feathers from the other ravens within their gilded cage above the room, emitting soft caws every now and then. Anuira stood up and allowed the sheer fabric of the long sapphire robe covering her bare shoulders drop onto the floor in a tangled heap. “I warn you,” she smiled, almost coyly, “I'm told that I am exceptional in the art of persuading.”

 

“Then let us both see if I have finally met my match.”


End file.
